


Metal Man or Woman

by periferal



Category: RWBY
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Het, Medical Inaccuracies, Romance, but implied later happening, but yeah, canon inaccuracies, cause age difference, crackship, generally why did i write this, huh, i actually wrote het, i couldn't bring myself to the romance thing, i guess, in my opinion it's happier than canon, no actual shippy material in the story, uh, written pre series three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periferal/pseuds/periferal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a version of events that somehow still managed not to be as bad as canon, Yang and General Ironwood are trapped together, and Yang wakes up with a metal arm. </p><p>Written for a crackship challenge I gave myself. Put the names into a random generator, chose one of four homestuck ships. </p><p>Got Yang <3 Ironwood. </p><p>This is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metal Man or Woman

The mechanical arm is already attached to her when she wakes up, an unnatural weight where her brain insists there should be an even balance to her left arm. All things considered she wakes up pretty rapidly, going from black out unconsciousness to full wakefulness in what feels like only a few moments, and as soon as she does she wishes she had stayed asleep. But now that she can hear the sound of what she assumes is a monitor of some kind, she can’t unhear it, or fall back asleep while listening to the beeping. 

She is lying in a hospital bed, all clinical whites and supposedly calming colors- she understands, suddenly, why Qrow hates these places so much. Everything is too clean and antiseptic smelling, and the single, small window is shuttered. She’s in those weird looking hospital clothes. 

She tries to push herself up using her left arm. She immediately twists to her right, the metal arm heavier than she expects. Frustrated, she tries again, and again, and again. It takes her more tries than she’s proud of to finally figure out how to hold herself in order to stay upright, and she looks up. 

“It takes a while to get used to, wouldn’t you say?” she hears. She turns, resisting the urge to make the move sudden- that definitely would upset the precarious balance she’s found. 

General Ironwood is standing at parade rest in the corner of the hospital room nearest the door- probably why she hasn’t noticed him before. He’s wearing civilian clothing, a grey long sleeved button-up and black slacks, but he’s standing with the stiff posture she’s used to seeing. She’s always noticed the audible clanking when he walks, so she assumes he’s referring to an artificial leg of some kind. 

She looks down at the arm. It is a dull, non-reflective silver, and a bit bulkier than her (still fairly muscular, so she hasn’t been unconscious enough to lose any of that, then) left arm, with five digits and articulate joints. She can move it, with the same sort of not-thoughts that she moves everything else, but she can barely feel anything on it. Pressure, yes, and the sensation of the fabric on its “skin” and “fingers” but there is no temperature, not even for her. She moves the fingers- clenching into a fist, releasing it. The motion is smoother than she expects- it’s not natural, really, how easily she can move it. “It’s- strange, definitely,” she finally says in answer to the General’s question. “Shouldn’t more physical therapy be necessary? This isn’t- it’s not mine,” she finishes lamely, looking anywhere but at him, now that she’s noticed him. 

In the almost silence of the hospital room, the click of Ironwood’s metal leg echoes a bit more than it usually would, as he steps forward, hesitates, and shifts back to standing, though his hands are by his sides, now. Yang notices that he’s only wearing one glove, a silver one on his right hand, and his left hand is covered in small cuts and bruises. “Technology has improved, unfortunately by necessity, since the time I got my replacements. You will still need some physical therapy, mostly to relearn sensation, but other than that? You are fighting ready, at least.” He isn’t looking at her. Instead, he’s staring at the blocked window. 

She looks again at what she’d assumed was a glove, noticing small nicks and dents, similar to the cuts on the other hand. She looks back down at her own hand, notices the color and how smooth it is. It does not have the little folds that skin has, or the little hairs or any other sign of life. “How much did you lose?” she asks, not looking up. “It wasn’t just your leg, was it?”

He gives out a startled laugh, “Oh, of course, you did not see it, did you? Ms. Belladonna was busy carrying you to the hospital at the time, and you were unconscious but yes- much of my body has been replaced.”

Ironwood finally looks at Yang, and she notices the small amount of worry he hasn’t managed to quite hide in his face. “Blake? She’s okay?” she says, remembering all of a sudden how exactly she’d lost her arm in the first place- “That creepy White Fang guy was there, he attacked her- and I tried to punch him but he had this sword and- she’s okay?” If Blake’s okay, that might just make this metal arm and hospital stay at least somewhat worth it. “Can I see her?”

His expression softens for a moment, before he almost visibly pushes himself back into his original severe expression. “She is fine. Shaken, but fine. Ms. Xiao Long- you have been out for an astonishingly short period of time, and you are nowhere near ready for visitors.” He has gone back to staring resolutely at the window. 

“Oh-” Yang says. It’s good that Blake is alright, and she doesn’t know if she really wants Ruby to see her like this, but that’s still. It’s strange. “Why are you here, then? Shouldn’t you be going back to Atlas, if the attacks are over?”

Something seems to snap in the General, and his military posture collapses. He is now standing with his weight obviously on his artificial side, and he looks- very tired. “The fighting is not over. I am your guard- I said you were battle ready but only by the standards of where I’m from. The doctors here insist you rest and that I” a chagrinned expression passes over his face, “I am also forbidden from returning to active duty, despite-” his fists clench, and he glances downwards. “I am sorry, I must not tell you anything more of what is going on.”

“That’s- that’s not okay” Yang says, trying to push herself to her feet. The sudden movement causes her to lose her balance and collapse on her side, suddenly aware of the unnatural weight again. “That’s not okay, I have to see- someone. Please.” She rights herself again, and it does come easier, this time, the balance needed.

“I am not happy about it. I need to be out there, fighting but instead I am here. I will keep you safe though.”

“Why am I in danger? Unless someone-” she lets out a little gasp- “do you think one of Mercury’s friends will hurt me?”

He shakes his head. “Mr. Black is in fact quite healthy, it appears. What stunt he pulled was entirely his fault, not yours.”

“Oh.” She looks down at her hands, both of them this time. They’ve obviously removed her weapons which is- strange. She needs to hit something, but there is nothing (and noone) in here she could punch with a clear conscious. “I- you said- have you seen things, like that, before?”

“I have experienced what I at the time assumed were only hallucinations caused by battlefield stress. Now, knowing what I know about Mr. Black, I am no longer certain. And I would like to apologize, Ms. Xiao Long, for how I spoke to you then. I realize that I may have very well come off as callous. This was not my intent.” While he’s talking he steps closer, and Yang can hear the difference in his gait, the steps with his fake leg heavier sounding. He stops, but he does not return again to his original posture.

The room is very still. The only sound that she can hear beyond the beeping of the monitor is her own heartbeat and breathing. As her mind clears from the last effects of waking up, she realizes just how... sterile, really, the room is. 

Twice, the General moves as though to speak, and twice he stays silent. Yang listens to the sound of his breathing, and to the beeping of the monitor. 

She is very strong- with this arm, she thinks, even more so. Throughout her life Yang has struggled to not hurt others more than necessary, especially when under the influence of her semblance. Knowing, well, thinking she had badly injured her opponent without any provocation outside her own mind had been- strange. “I- I don’t blame you,” she says, finally, and she can hear Ironwood’s sharp exhale. She looks up at him, finally looking at his face, though she focuses mostly on the metal strip above his right eye instead of actually looking in his eyes. “For what you said, I mean. It hurt but- I think I understand.”

“That is good,” he says. 

The silence stretches on. “Wouldn’t they give you a chair?” she finally says. Seeing him stand there, even if he’s no longer in any specific posture, is making her feel more like she is under guard for something she has done than she would like. 

“Oh. Yes,” he says, and he goes to a door set in the wall across from her bed, near the far corner of the room. He opens it, and pulls out a folder chair, and sets in near where he had been standing. He sits down, both the chair and his... replacements, he called them, creaking as he does so. 

“So,” Yang says, “I guess we should start talking.”

“Yes,” the General says, “I suppose so.”


End file.
